I stood weary and ragged upon a long road to what seemed nowhere,
And there as the sun traced a tired arc toward the horizon of oblivion,
A tattered cloak wrapping thin shoulders heavy with memory and twilight looming,
That single star, that glint of hope, the shine of home,
The sword is old, spilled so much blood, I touch the hilt and my hackles rise, and for the split of a second...
I forget the war, the state of the world, I'm merely me, simple and free,
Before the bombs fell or the crossing of claw and fang, just no one.
If only I could go back to the place of smile and laughter and falling leaves.
Cruel. So often no choice. Life and death. No rest.